


Sparks

by HigheverRains



Series: HigheverRains Presents... [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Thedas' Most Bangable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigheverRains/pseuds/HigheverRains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan decides to teach the Champion of Kirkwall exactly how it's done in the Circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kamille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamille/gifts).



> WARNINGS: sex (some rough but not much)
> 
> Comments always welcome.
> 
> A short and quick one-off for Kamille, who wanted F!Trev and someone, and has a thing for Garrett Hawke :P

She could feel him, the magic coming from him in waves, dark and crackling like fire and lightning as she watched him climb down the last few steps onto the top of the tower before them.

“Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.” A slight smile touched the corner of his lips, and his eyes narrowed with a touch of amusement.

“Though I don’t use that title much anymore.” And, oh, his voice was like a deep rumble, all honey and melted chocolate, and she felt it run through her, a tingle to her very toes. But the glint in his eye, he knew it too, and tipped his head a little to consider her. 

“Hawke, the Inquisitor,” Varric said, looking between them. “I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him after all.” 

Hawke shrugged and leaned across the balcony, eyes bright, turning his head only a little to glance at her sidelong. That infernal glint was still in his eyes, that knowing look. She wet her lips and drew a breath, crossing her arms for an inch of fortitude.

But what right did he have to be so gorgeous? Maker, Garrett Hawke alone should be a sin.

She admired his shining black hair, scruffy across his head, and the short, rough beard on his jaw. He met her gaze with his knowing blue eyes and sighed.

“You’ve already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I’m sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison,” he said simply. But he did have some news to share regarding the Grey Wardens who had been missing for some time, and ultimately she was glad he had come so far out of his way. He lounged for a bit atop the tower in the sunlight, musing over all the possible connections, while Varric gave the occasional random comment. But the details were ultimately the same: they needed more information, and Corypheus’s forces were stronger than they knew. 

“I didn’t come this far just to give you bad news,” Garrett assured her with a smile at the look on her face as things grew bleaker and bleaker. He glanced down to the grounds below, to the Herald’s Rest, and nodded. “How about a pint at your tavern and we can discuss what else I can help you with.” 

That was how she found herself staring into a tankard of ale and sitting next to Hawke while Varric tried to round up enough people for a game of Wicked Grace. Garrett Hawke was a presence all his own. Even when she was not looking she could feel him, glad in iron and fur and black leather. At his back, his lyrium-infused staff was singing to her, softly, somewhere under Maryden’s version of the local tavern favorites. She drank her ale, and wondered.

“You’re from Ostwick.” The words were not a question, just a statement, and she looked up to see diamond eyes watching her with interest. “The Circle there?” She nodded. He smirked. “Must be odd, being here in the middle of all this after spending all your life inside tower walls.”

“I find I rather like the life of being an apostate,” she replied simply, setting down her mug. “No more sneaking around in corridors feeling Templars staring down your neck. And this mark on my hand means even Seeker Cassandra is doing as I ask, though I try to mind my manners.” 

“Herald of Andraste then?” he grinned and drank a long deep swallow before wiping his mouth with the back of his glove and shaking his head. “Funny how often you fall into this sort of business of saving the world, isn’t it?” 

“Indeed.” 

She wondered then what it might have been like, had she known Garrett Hawke in the Circle. It was hard picturing him there, in robes pouring over books. A man of action would have been broken in the towers. She was glad he had never endured that.

But if she had know him…perhaps…

Well the rules were different out here. She was not quite sure how to handle herself around people she found desirable. In the Towers it was a simple thing: a quiet look, a small smile, and then they were pulling at robes and garments, hushed in dark corners, hoping no one could see.

“Anders used to get that look when he was thinking about mischief,” Hawke said suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts abruptly. She blushed a little.

“What?”

“Anders…he used to look like you did. Not planning on blowing anything up, are you?” She gave a shake of head.

“There’s only Skyhold here, and after what it cost to claim it…” He gave a soft laugh, and she considered him.

“Do you miss him?” 

“Anders? Sometimes. But mostly I find it’s very quiet without him around.” He grinned. “I swear, he didn’t know whether to desire me or despair of me.” She gave him a funny look and he glanced at his mug. “He was a character. Don’t know where he is now. I’m glad of that too. Best he find his own way.” He sighed, then glanced to her. “Tried to kiss me once. Did you know that?” She blinked, taken aback, and he smirked. “Lost his head a bit. “He said growing up in the Circle, the apprentices found ways to make things more…bearable. Is it true?” Her blush was probably truth enough. He grinned. “I see it is. No wonder all you Circle mages appear a little blunt with this flirting thing.” 

“Oh we flirt, just…quickly and with intent,” she informed him simply. He laughed, turning in his chair.

“Is that so, Madam Inquisitor?” he teased. She met his eyes, accepting the challenge. 

“Yes. Direct and to the point, no dancing about and waiting. You never know when the next chance may be.” He read it in her eyes and leaned in a little towards her.

“I caught you watching with wanting in your eyes. I know you’re interested, and I think given the fact the world appears to ending, your same logic may even apply.” He gave a wolfish grin, tipping his head a little to one side. “So tell me, Lady Inquisitor, how does this work in your Circles.” She realized he was playing with her, but there was heat in her eyes, so she pushed back the stool and rose, and he raised an eyebrow to watch her. And then she strode out, glancing back only when she reached the door. 

He picked up on the message there. He followed. 

She took the paths across the yard, feeling him in her wake a few paces back, and climbed the steps towards Skyhold’s Keep. And there she led him across the chamber towards her quarters at the far end. 

She pushed open the door, and left it slightly ajar, a quiet invitation. And then she pressed herself against the wall within the tower and waited. 

A moment. A heartbeat. Then another. And then the door swung open again. She caught him by the arm, pulling him close, and he gave a soft smirk before catching her lips in his own.

“What will people say, Inquisitor?” he asked, and she shook her head, silencing him with another kiss and pulling at the thick belt at his waist. 

“You asked how we did this in the Circle,” she finally breathed, panting, and he grinned before pushing her back against the wall. 

“So I did.” He kissed her again, and his hands came to her clothes, pulling at them with zeal. She helped him, loosening the clasps of her shirt, tearing at the ties of her trousers, and then she reached for his own.

How many times had she done this in the Tower? How many times had she tangled with other enchanters in storage rooms, quieted gasps. 

Hawke’s mouth crept down her neck and she tipped her head back, closing her eyes. And then he bent to kiss at the tops of her breasts. She gave a soft sigh, and he gave a low growl. And then she was freeing him from his trousers. 

Her own slipped down, his hands running over her hips, pushing the fabric away.

And then before she knew he she was in his arms, feeling the muscles cording under his biceps, and he was kissing her as he hauled her up, pushing her against the wall, and burying himself inside her. 

By sheer force of habit, she bit on her lip to stifle the moan, but he did no such thing. He paused then, watching her, and she opened her eyes to meet his sapphire gaze. The red smear across his nose leant more character to a face already so full of character. She grinned, and he began to move in earnest.

When next he moaned, she hushed him with a quiet laugh, straining from the effort of holding her own silence.

“People will hear!” she whispered in delight, and he groaned, burying his face in her neck.

And then he was panting, keening against her. She could smell the scent of sweat and Marcher spices. And she buried her face in his scruffy black hair, wrapping her arms tight about him. 

They lasted only a moment longer. He caught his breath in a sharp gasp, shuddering against her, and she muffled a moan into his hair as she felt him surge against her. 

And then he had to draw back, draw out, away, barely able to keep his own feet. She carefully reached to dress herself, another habit acquired, and then moved to fasten his own trousers and re-buckle the massive belt at his waist. He watched her work, cheeks flushed, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Well,” he breathed when finally he could, “I think that clarifies some things.” He grinned and she went up on her tiptoes to kiss him carefully.

“Glad to be of service,” she replied, giving him a wink. “Come, or people will notice our absence.” He just smirked and pulled her back, kissing her mouth a little roughly. 

“Lady Inquisitor,” he said in a low growl. “Don’t wait too long to meet me in Crestwood.” She grinned with delight and then stepped back.

“Oh believe me, I won’t.” And then, her curiosity sated, she pulled her coat straight and reached to the door, ready again to face the world, a smile on her face.


End file.
